


Winter is Coming (and other bad news)

by strawberrv



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Dissociation, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Roommates, Seasonal Affective Disorder, seasonal depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 18:07:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16686505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberrv/pseuds/strawberrv
Summary: the cold seeps in and doesn’t come out.keith runs hot.





	Winter is Coming (and other bad news)

**Author's Note:**

> hello !! just a little vent abt seasonal depression and how it’s Real Bad. will i ever stop projecting onto these characters ? who knows

the cold seeps in and doesn’t come out.

it’s october, and he wanders from class to class, half-listening to discussions of halloween costumes and campus events. though the gardeners give it their best effort, the grass of the quad is yellowing and stiff in patches, like the earth is tearing apart the green. summer, peeled back to reveal the grim truth of the matter.

he himself is not actually that cold -- at least he doesn’t think he is. a chill runs through him when he steps outside, but it’s southern arizona in october. not a snowflake in sight.

keith comes and goes from their dorm room; even as temperature drops he only ever wears his dumb cropped jacket out. lance knows he has a heavier leather coat, he saw it when keith moved in.

“aren’t you cold like that?” lance asks one night, keith headed out for his night ceramics class.

“no.” he replies. succinct as ever.

lance hums, slipping further down his headboard with his phone propped on his chest.

“hey, will you do the dishes soon? they’re kind of piling up,” keith casts a glance to their small kitchen area, where there are indeed several plates and bowls with abandoned dregs of ramen (lance) and some energy bar wrappers (keith). 

lance mumbles out an affirmative and keith grabs his keys and wallet from his desk.

lance collapses fully on his back once he leaves the room, only to roll over and let his arm dangle over the side of the bed. he can see the kitchenette from here, vaguely illuminated by the light from the hallway.

he groans and turns his attention to the window, and a chill looks back. the glass is foggy; the warmth of the room at war with the outside temperature.

he rolls over, burying himself under his comforter.

*

campus is a freezing wasteland that only he can see.

grey skies pull him out of his body, stretch his brain away from his head, and he can only look. 

only look at the ground where his feet move left-right, only look at his professors while they lecture, only look at the sunset. 5:00 pm. his eyes burn in the darkness.

*

“ugh, it’s so cluttered on your side, lance.”

lance hums, fingers moving over his laptop keys. an english assignment is open on his screen, the last sentence he wrote is the last sentence he wrote is the last sentence he wrote. he’s having trouble reading what comes next.

keith is at the little display shelf on his side of the room, rearranging some of his clay pots. he clears his throat.

“i’m doing a demonstration on throwing smaller vessels for some freshman next week -- it’s like. my final, basically. and i get extra credit if i bring another upperclassman, so…”

lance blinks up from his laptop screen.

“what?”

keith huffs, throwing on his dumb jacket, and says, “it’s on saturday at 3, so just… come if you want to.”

lance watches his mouth form the words, nodding vaguely.

*

he comes back to himself right after his mythology class, at the water fountain in the library.

he’s shaken back to life, for a moment, only to realize he’s been running the fountain, splashing water onto his shirt. the dampness is cold on his skin, and he shudders. he presses his fingertips together, shifting his weight from foot to foot. 

god save him now, this winter will kill him.

*

katie and hunk invite for lunch on saturday, and he reflexively declines. there’s something he has to do on saturday. he hangs up and thinks. there’s something he has to do on saturday. 

it’s thursday now, and he thinks as he walks back to the dorms, saturday is important. 

friday now, and he stares into the dark for far too long tonight.

friday night and his hands are numb.

saturday and keith’s home. oops. saturday was important. 

keith’s home, making noise. he slams his keys down on his desk, hands coated in clay.

shit.

“thanks for showing up,” he says, biting and sarcastic, and lance is wrenched back into himself once again.

“really cool. i’ve been texting you all fucking day, you know.” lance glances at his phone, face down and probably dead on his bedside.

“keith—”

“whatever,” he says, pulling his arms out of the sleeves of his jacket — the leather one that he never wears.

“no… no.” lance pushes himself off his bed, standing to face keith.

“not whatever. this was important and i… i’m really sorry, man.”

keith shrugs, “it’s fine. i guess i shouldn’t have asked when i’ve been waiting for you to do the dishes for two weeks.”

lance clenches his jaw, blinks hard.

“dude, i get that you’re pissed right now. i’m fucking pissed at myself, too. but --” he pauses, takes a shaky breath, runs a hand through his hair.

“but i don’t know what to do, man!” his voice is stifled, unsteady and getting caught up in his sinuses. he’s gonna cry.

keith’s brows furrow, “what do you mean?”

“i mean like! like i wake up,” he strides over to the window, yanking aside the floral curtains.

“and the day’s already gone? like even if it’s eight am? it’s gonna be 4:30 and dark out in a few hours.”

he looks between keith and the night sky peering through the glass outside, expression pleading. his eyes are like, _do you see what i see? tell me i’m not crazy._

keith opens his mouth but lance continues,

“and -- and it’s cold! it’s fucking cold outside.” he looks at keith again, eyes like, _am i crazy? am i alone?_

keith says, “it is.”

“except no it’s fucking not? we live in fucking arizona, keith! i’m from cuba! i’ve never seen snow in my life, i don’t know what it’s like to be cold, but god damn if it isn’t fucking freezing out.”

he pauses, still by the window, unconsciously pulling his sleeves down over his hands. he’s shivering, keith realizes now. he sniffles.

“so i wake up and… and it’s dark and cold and the day’s over before it’s begun, and being in bed is like the only comfortable thing now?” 

he presses the heels of his hands into his eyes.

“so i’ve gone to… three classes in the last two weeks. and i missed the lit club meeting for this month. and i didn’t do the dishes.”

he drags his hands down his face, and his cheeks are red, and his forehead is lined with stress, and his eyes are like, _i’m alone. i’m sorry._

the voice lance uses to finish his speech in is small and sad and drawn.

“and i didn’t the only thing you really needed me to do out of all that.”

he sits down on his mattress.

“i’m sorry.”

*

next week and keith’s home.

“um. hi.”

keith slings his bookbag off his shoulders and onto the ground, opening the front pocket to retrieve something.

“hi,” lance mumbles from his position in a bed burrito.

he burrows further into the cocoon, already dreading whatever chastising comment keith is about to say.

he’s kneeling, withdrawing something from the bag that’s shielded with his body.

lance blinks, curious to see what freshly fired pot keith has.

to his surprise, keith turns around holding, yes, a pot, but one that’s filled with dirt, a small green sprout peaking out. he sits up.

“so,” keith says, eyes cast down, thumbs running over the shiny blue glaze.

after a moment he steps closer to lance’s bed, over the invisible line that separates them.

another moment, and he sits at the foot.

“so.” he says again, this time meeting lance’s eyes.

“you probably definitely need to see the campus counselor, so i made an appointment for you. i put it on a sticky note on your mythology book. but, mostly, i made this.”

he holds out the potted plant, just small enough to fit in his palm.

“it’s um. blue hibiscus. it flowers year-round.” 

he clears his throat, placing it in lance’s hands.

“so… even though it feels like you’re just a summer-blooming flower, this guy will make it through no matter what.”

he nods to himself, as if affirming what he just said.

lance blinks, throat tightening and eyes watering. 

he carefully sets down the plant on his bedside table, and promptly launches himself into keith’s chest. 

“thank you,” he says, crying, breathless.

keith slowly brings his arms around to hold him, and lance is surrounded by the dry smell of clay and the dorm soap.

it’s nice. it’s warm.

for the first time since august, lance is warm.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! the sun’s coming back. promise.
> 
> ssugaa.tumblr.com


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